by Sam Herrera
“Remember? I’m still having nightmares about you jumping into the fire. Seriously, you were insane.”
“Guilty as charged,” I smirked. “Whaddya say?”
“I dunno, Kyle. It’s gone and even if it wasn’t, I’m getting my own life now. It’s alright ‘round here, y’know; I’m being accepted and even liked. I love it here.”
I sensed there was more to this tale than she was telling me and gave a small smile as I recalled her gushing about Caleb Grey.
“Okay, kid, fine. By all means get a life.”
“Okay, I will. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight. Oh, wait,” I added quickly, suddenly remembering what I’d called about.“Michael.”
“Who?”
“Michael. That’s what we’ve decided to call him.”
“Cool. Michael Thayer. I like the sound of that.”
“Me too,” I grinned.
“Better than Kyle anyway.”
“Shut up,” I grinned. “See ya.” I hung up and looked around the prison, inhaling the powerful disinfectant and listening to the yells of hatred. I closed my cell door with a sigh of relief.
MARA
The next day wasn’t as bad as I, at first, thought it would be: to my surprise, Summer actually came up and apologized.
“What?” I stared, certain I’d heard wrong.
“You heard me. My father’s making me do this so don’t read too much into it. We’re not friends.” Damn right, we’re not. I nodded and allowed myself a small smile, watching her stomp off. Little victories. It was lunch break. I wondered, as I sat on one of the outdoor benches, having mine, how I was going to bring Caleb Grey into song. My songs were mostly rock and heavy metal. But was he into that? I doubt it, I thought, remembering his collared shirt, nice pants and Goth make-up-free face.
“Hi.” I looked up and my brows lifted in surprise as the object of my musings appeared in front of me. He sat next to me, looking very apologetic. “For what it’s worth,” he began after a long, awkward silence, “I’m sorry. She is such. A. Bitch,” he growled. “Right now, I wish I’d had an older brother or something.”
“I have an older brother and he’s just as bad,” I smirked. “He’s like a total douche.” We both looked over to where Andy was giving his stooges a good laugh with his Jack Black impression. Case of point.
SARAH
I picked up the paper, with a clenched jaw. On it was a photo of Kyle above the headline: “NYS Imprisoned.” I glanced grimly down at the two photos beneath the headline of the next, connected story: a man and a woman in uniform, smiling on the day of their graduation from police academy and at the altar on their wedding day, and then sourly out at the fucking press camped on my lawn. I’d had to fight my way through to the front door. I’d used threats. I’d turned the hose on them. Nothing seemed to work apart from closing the curtains. I groaned then picked up the phone on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Sarah.”
“Mr. Plummer?” I frowned. My boss rarely called unless it was urgent. Was it now?
I didn’t like the guy much but to his credit, he kept me on, paying no attention to the guilty-by-association vibe I got from the others, the papers or the cops. Innocent until proven guilty was his view and he was sticking to it.“Do you mind picking up some more shifts? Kate’s ill.”
“Is she okay?” I asked, disliking the guy more than ever now. All this was really telling on me. By day, I fought off the press. By night, I was at that shitty club, trying to keep my head down. God. I needed to get some real rest for once, not just sleeping in short shifts. Oh, yeah, I now had an unborn child in my life and even that was proving hard work. By morning I hurled everything I had in me. By night the growing pressure on my spine kept me up all night. And now my boss wanted me to pull extra shifts.
“Fine,” I sighed, “you’re the boss.” I hung up and collapsed on the couch with a grateful sigh. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying not to think about anything. Ring, ring.
“Really?!” Ring, ring. “Fffffuuuuck!” I gasped. I dragged myself up and back to the phone.“Hello,” I answered.
“Sarah Hale?” a vaguely familiar voice replied.
“Yes. Who is this?” I asked.
The voice replied and my eyes bugged. I should have recognized it anyway: I had all her movies and TV shows.
“Uh, hi. What do you want?” I frowned.
“I want to talk to you,” she replied in a small voice.
“You…okay?” She didn’t sound it.
“I need to talk to you. It’s about the case.”
“Look,” I snapped, throwing my head back and groaning.“I don’t want to hear it. If you lost someone, my condolences an’ all, but I don’t. Wanna. Know.” With that, I hung up.
*
I sighed as I saw the crowd at the bar, usually so long, seemed to have now found a hotspot elsewhere; I reckoned the queue was at least half its usual length. I served the drinks, meeting the crowd’s gawking squarely.“You’re pretty famous, huh?” I nodded at Jack, the new guy, as he stood next to me, leaning against the bar, his hands in his pockets. He seemed to be handling himself well. There was an air of quiet confidence about him. . Sadly my presence seemed to be inviting trouble as I found out when it was my turn to make more rounds. I exacerbated this shit, instead of calming it; accusing, resentful eyes followed me everywhere. And when two so-called hard-asses saw me, they instantly started up, protesting and fighting. Exhausted from all the hostility, I collapsed into a seat.
“Medic’s on the way,” I told Jack as he leaned back in his seat, picking bottle glass out of his hair. “I’ll get some ice,” I offered.
“Rough day, huh?”
“Hm?” I frowned, turning to the hooded and shades-sporting figure, leaning against the bar. She smiled as she removed her shades and leaned in close.
“What do you want? Ms. Hollywood,” I frowned.
“I want you to listen to me and I’m not going anywhere until you do. And guess what? Neither are you.”
“Excuse me?” I frowned, affronted.
“I shoved an apple up your exhaust pipe,” she grinned.
I stared, blinking. This wasn’t really movie star behavior. “Alright. What?! What do you want?” She told me. I slowly leaned back, blinking, hardly able to believe what I had just heard.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s true,” she insisted, shaking her head. “He has been planning this since the moment he heard about…what Kyle Thayer and your niece can do, these little adventures they have. Which I still don’t understand, by the way.”
“Never mind about that. Are you serious, though?” She nodded. “You know what you’re saying, right?”
“Yes. Why would I lie or make something like that up?” Why indeed?
*
“Oh, boy,” I sighed, hearing the sounds of partying even before I closed the car door and made my waddling way across the street. He was not going to like this. I knew what the big occasion was: they were celebrating both her birthday and the success of her new film, Joyrider, and it sounded like the party was in full swing. The muscular suit opening the door stared at me as though I were a smelly dog that had jumped from nowhere, but he stood aside and I let myself in. My eardrums nearly burst at the sound of AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” being blasted out of the speakers. I put my fingers in my ears and steered as clear of that room as the famous faces were of me. As soon as they saw me they backed away. I sighed, feeling like a leper. Isn’t it nice to be famous as well?
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I smiled sarcastically, seeing another suit and two lackeys come up, acting all tough.
“Where’s the birthday girl?” I asked, having to yell over the racket.
“Get outta here. You’re not invited.�
�
“Actually, yeah, I am.”
“Oh, yeah?” he scoffed.“And who would invite you?”
“Me.” I turned around, hearing her voice. “Excuse us, please?” she said, craning her neck around me. Blinking in surprise and looking very reluctant, he walked off; the other two, sneering at me and muttering darkly, slowly followed. We walked out onto the balcony, where it was quieter. The two women in sparkly dresses frowned when they saw me coming and left quickly, looking worriedly over their shoulders at her.
“How are you?” I asked, trying to be polite, but sick of this bullshit and this place; it reminded me of Cielo.
“I wanted to show y—”
“Am I interrupting something?” We both turned to see him walk in, followed by security. “I’ll deal with this,” he told them. “Hello, Ms. Hale.”
“Hi,” I nodded, my eyes searching his face. Was it possible?
“Why don’t we have a little chat over here?” I had never seen such a large library in one house before. I was surprised at how extensive it was. I’d heard her grandfather had been a rich entrepreneur and a collector of antique books. I wondered how much they were actually worth.
“So, what were you chatting to her about?” he asked as he shut the door and the sounds of the party out. We sat, him behind the desk and me on the couch in front of it. I looked at him and wondered. There was danger here. I could sense it the same way an animal could. The shadow of the bookcase cast his face in a gloom but his shades were well polished and, when he looked up, reflected the overhead lights. I felt like they were two bright spotlights zeroing in on me and put a protective hand on my swelling stomach.
“Nothing really,” I shrugged, putting up a casual front despite beginning to feel like I was in a cage with a cobra. “Her new movie’s doing well, I hear?” He gave a small smile and nodded knowingly a few times.
“Did she invite you here?”
“Yeah,” I smiled.
“Hmm, why don’t we cut the shit?”
“What do you mean?” I frowned as the feeling grew and grew.
“Drink?”
“Huh?”
“Would you like a drink?” I watched, as though hypnotized, as he took a water jug from behind his desk…A water jug with a head floating in it. I recognized the face: the elder Sullivan boy. The flesh was rotting in the water, but it was still unmistakably him. I almost screamed. “Maybe a different vintage?” A wine pitcher was slid right next to the jug…with the head of a younger boy, the little brother, no more than ten years old, in it. I swallowed hard against the flood of bile in my mouth. Most of his skin too had rotted away long ago but some small fragments had survived and were floating around the semi-covered skull.
“Did you really think you had me fooled?” he grinned as I began breathing like a steam train. “I have been listening in on her phone calls for years now. I’m a good judge of character. I was a good judge of my wife’s character as well. That’s why I killed her, y’know?”
I froze solid apart from my head, which I whipped ‘round to stare at him. “You killed her? You told Kyle she had cancer, that she killed herself by driving into the wall?”
“I lied. I damaged her brakes. I suspect that was what my daughter brought you here to talk about.” The cold, matter-of-fact way he was saying this chilled me to the bone.
“I did offer my wife a place at my side, but she refused. God, she was so weak and stupid, but I kinda saw that coming. I’d already damaged the car as a precaution. When I showed her what I was, she tried to drive away in a panic and crashed. So you see,” he smirked, turning to face me, “she brought it on herself.”
“Good for her, running away,” I whispered.
“Oooh, now you don’t want to make me angry,” he warned, coming around from behind the desk…with a handgun held at his side. “Please,” I breathed. “I’m pregnant.”
“I don’t care.” He walked to the bookshelf behind him and reached for a book on the top shelf. My throat went as dry as a bone and my eyes bugged to the size of saucers. The entire shelf spun on hidden hydraulics, turning just like a revolving door. On the other side were not books, but heads, each with their own pigeonhole and each dead and rotting. I recoiled as far back as I could with him coming forward and sitting down next to me on the couch, feeling as though I was going to be sick. Every muscle in me tensed and both my hands were clasped over my budding stomach protectively as I saw his thumb pull back the hammer.
“What shall I do with you, huh, Sarah?” I kept silent, suspecting he was just ruminating, as I, forcing my eyes away from the macabre wall of horrors, looked around the room for some form of shelter from the impending hail of bullets. The shelves were a possibility, but could I get to them in time? One of the jugs could be used as a weapon but there was still the same problem: the gun was stroking my temple in slow, lazy circles.
“Relax, I’m gonna let you go this once; it’s more fun having a worthy opponent in this little game. You and that interesting machine your boyfriend has been flying around in.” I looked up in surprise, trying to avoid staring down the barrel. How the hell do you know about that? He smiled, seeing my reaction. “It’s my interesting machine now. I’ve been tailing you and him ever since the Statue of Liberty incident. Finally the chance came to grab it for myself and, as you can see, it’s proven very useful. Go on; let’s see if you and my sweetie are a match for me.” I looked back at the water jugs, gazing into the dead eyes of the two small children. Game?
“You’re a goddamn monster,” I told him in a whisper before I left.
*
Still reeling, still sick to my stomach, I leaned against the wall. “Jesus,” I shuddered before running for the door. I couldn’t get out of that driveway fast enough.
There came a knocking at the door while I was drowning my terrors in a strong Scotch. I slowly got up and warily moved towards the door. Was it him? Had he changed his mind about letting me live? “Who is it?”
“It’s me.” I opened the door and saw a very different person to the popular face on the red carpet. She was red-eyed and the corners of her mouth were down. She looked as though she had just been crying her eyes out. “He showed me,” she whispered, a single tear trickling out of her right eye. I slowly, gently, put my arms around her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
*
I watched him standing among the crowd of mourners gathered by the graveside as though hypnotized. Her grandmother, his own mother. Was it possible that he was capable of that? Of course it is, you know what you saw. Shit, where’s he gone? I’d lost him under the canopy of black umbrellas. I glanced up at the sky, envying them their cover. All I had was this tree I was standing under.
I looked up as she joined me. In her simple black dress and cardigan, covered by a matching raincoat, with her face pinched and grief-stricken, she looked like a ghost.
“Can I have a word?”
I nodded and, sharing her umbrella, we moved away, out of the yard, the cameras and the incredulous eyes of her friends following us until we were in the church. Seeing the priest was there, preparing the altar, she led me upstairs to the tower. I recoiled in horror at the very sight of him waiting for us in the attic area.
“Terribly sorry, it was a truly tragic accident, wasn’t it?” he grinned broadly.
“Why?” she whispered. “You goddamned bastard, why? Why did you kill her? Seriously what was the fucking point of that?”
“Why not?” he shrugged.“It’s fun.”
I put my arms around her and we turned around and walked out. I was disgusted. I was damned if I was sharing a roof with that. As we began walking out of the cemetery, we turned to see him stand on the podium to give a speech, feeling even more like hurling for it.
“I can’t listen to that,” she scowled. I nodded and offered her a hankie.
“What an actor,” I mut
tered grimly.“Are you gonna be okay?”
“He won’t hurt me. I’m all he has left now as well. He sure made sure of that.” I pulled her close and held her tight, not caring who saw.
“Take care of yourself,” I whispered into her ear.
*
I was done when I got home. I was worried about her but, selfishly, no longer wanted to think of her, or him, or anything like him. I sank onto my armchair with a grateful sigh and called Kyle, needing to hear his voice.
“Hey, Sarah.”
“Hi.” I smiled, keeping my eyes closed. My heart filled at the small greeting, with love and sorrow. He’d saved me, turned it all around, given me a job. Okay I was still a little messed up. But the booze truly had worn off and I was doing well as a waitress. And now he was in prison.
“Who’s she then?”
“Eh? Who’s who?”
“You know who. Your new friend. I heard all about it from Jack. So, who is she? C’mon, you can tell me.”
I told him.“Bullshit.” He slowly digested the fact that I was serious.“You are kidding, right?”
“Nah,” I grinned.
“I knew her when she was a kid. Who’d have thought it, huh? Mara loves her movies, y’know.”
“I know,” I smiled. “She forced me to watch them all.”
“So, what has she got to do with you? I heard her grandmother was the latest victim. Is she giving you more shit?”
“I kinda doubt she would come all the way from Hollywood for that. Anyway no, she’s helping us.”
“How?” I drew in a deep breath. I couldn’t tell him. Who knew who was listening?
“Trust me, Kyle, just trust me. There is still hope.”
MARA
Holy shit, I thought, gazing up in astonishment. If Redstone House, an ornate Nordic mansion, was huge, it was dwarfed by the acres and acres of pine forest surrounding it.
“Wow,” I whispered. We were rowing across Windermere, the inland sea situated in the middle of the Lake District, taking the scenic route. I watched Caleb from under my eyelids as he rowed the boat, admiring the way his wiry, strong arms pulled the oars in a steady rhythm. I heard a low, quacking noise and, getting up, smiled at a family of ducks: a mallard, a female and about five yellow, fuzzy ducklings, bobbing in our wake. Aww, they’re so cute.